Blood Orchid (Holly Barker 3)

“Yes, ma’am,” the woman said.

“I want you to go armed. Someone is trying to kill her, and although he’s unlikely to look for her at the outlet mall, you should be alert.” She gave the officer Trini Rodriguez’s description. “It may not be him; he has friends.”

Holly introduced the two women and let them get on with their shopping trip.

Hurd Wallace, slightly itchy in his new uniform, drove slowly around the Blood Orchid property, taking in everything. Two houses were in the early stages of construction, and others were being renovated, with workmen going in and out. The golf courses were beautiful, he thought; he didn’t play golf, but maybe it was time to take up the game, since membership in the golf club was part of his compensation package. As he passed the ninth hole, he saw Ed Shine playing with a Hispanic man, who seemed never to have played before, and Ed waved him over.

“How’s it going, Hurd?”

“Everything’s fine, Mr. Shine.”

“Call me Ed; everyone does.”

“We seem to be in good shape, Ed.”

“You meet your new employees?”

“Yes, one’s on the gate, and the other is back at the station, manning the phones.”

“When is your first golf lesson?”

“I haven’t scheduled anything yet.”

“Start soon; the pro is bored rigid.”

“I’ll do that, Ed. See you later.” Hurd drove on past the empty tennis courts, then turned and went out to the airfield. A King Air twin turboprop, belonging to Shine, was the sole aircraft parked there. Then, as he watched, a business jet came whistling in and landed on the six-thousand-foot runway. A large van bearing the Blood Orchid logo drove up, just in time to meet the airplane as it taxied in. Hurd saw a group of four men, all accompanied by rather flashy women, disembark and be greeted by the salesman. They all piled into the van, while the airplane’s crew stowed their luggage in the rear, then they drove off, just another group arriving to hear Ed Shine’s sales pitch. They’d be put up in the guest cottages and would, no doubt, be on the golf course by mid-afternoon.

Hurd drove back to his office and parked the Range Rover. One of his two officers sat, his feet on the desk, obviously talking to a woman. Hurd pushed his feet off the desk to get his attention, and the officer put his hand over the phone.

“Yeah, what is it?” he asked irritably.

“Hang up the phone; you’re at work.”

“I’ll call you back, baby,” the man said, then hung up.

“Not from the office, you won’t,” Hurd said, “and not from a patrol car, either. Talk to her on your own time; right now, you’re at work.”

“There isn’t any work,” the man said.

“Then find a broom and sweep up,” Hurd said, going into his office. The man had a point, he thought; the golf pro wasn’t the only staffer who was bored rigid. He

looked out his window at the shop across the street, where a truck of goods was being unloaded. This was the first of the shops to be reopened, and Hurd had not met the man who ran it.

He got up and went across the street, introduced himself to the man, whose name was Carter.

“What sort of shop are you opening?” Hurd asked.

“Jewelry,” the man said, setting down a carton on a showcase and lifting out a number of trays filled with diamond earrings and bracelets.

“Looks expensive.”

“You better believe it,” Carter said. “That’s the way Ed wants it.”

“You know, we’re a little underpopulated here so far; it may be a while before you have some customers.”

“Hurd, my first customers are already here,” Carter said, nodding at the group approaching the shop. The people who Hurd had seen get off the jet walked in and started shopping immediately, forcing Carter to open more cartons.

Hurd left them to get on with it and went back to his office. He had nothing else to do, so he started setting up a file system, one for each property on the place. It took him less than an hour, and when he was finished, he had nothing to do. He picked up the phone and called the golf club.